


Undercover Work is Sexy?

by IrishWitch58



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, MI6 Cafe Anon Prompt Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: A response for the prompt: B. Reverse of Bond's Colbert sketch: Bond works at a car rental place and he's constantly snarking at people who rent cars from him.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Undercover Work is Sexy?

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize to anyone who has ever worked in a car rental agency. Those I have spoken to assure me that the occurrences described here are the tip of the iceberg. I know I am posting this ahead of the time specified but I am off to my nephew's wedding and will not be able to post tomorrow.

“Why am I here? Tell me again before I pull out my Walther and create some headlines.” Bond's voice crackled over the comms and he heard Q sigh before explaining the scenario – again. 

“Your target is a known information broker. His pattern is that he comes in through the airport at Luton. He rents a car and goes to his meet. We want to make sure we have surveillance in the car he gets and, so far, the rental agents seem to be lamentably stupid or else paid off. With you there, you make sure he gets the rigged car.”

Bond tugged irritably at the cheap tie and the flourescent vest. “Why not just rig all the cars?”

“Because certain 00 agents broke my budget for the fiscal year back in May and we've been operating on a shoestring since.” Q definitely sounded a bit peeved.

“But the fiscal year starts in April. How...” Bond trailed off, recalling a string of missions where agents, himself included, had lost or destroyed several very expensive pieces of equipment. He was diverted from further observations by the arrival of a woman in a very nicely tailored skirt suit, carrying an expensive fur collared coat and sporting a handbag/briefcase that probably cost more than some small countries. And she had the Look, the one Bond had come to recognize and dread over the course of the few hours he had been standing here. “May I help you?” he offered civilly.

She sneered at him. “Well, Richard,” she said, reading his plastic name tag, “I want my car and make sure it's clean this time.” 

He forced a smile. “I would be happy to do that if you would give me your name and reservation number, ma'am.”

She made an exasperated gesture with her free hand and a dramatic sigh. “I am in here every other week. You idiots should know me by now.”

Bond felt his teeth grind and heard a muffled noise from the ear piece that surely was not a snicker. “I'm new, ma'am. If you give me the information I'll be happy to speed you on your way.” 

“It's Karen Parker. And you had better offer me a luxury upgrade for the mess the last time.” She inspected a nail as Bond turned his attention to the computer. He managed to keep a straight face, barely. 

He spent some time reading the entire note attached to the woman's last rental. “Ms. Parker. I'll have your vehicle outside in a moment. Now if you would just sign this agreement and initial in the four places I have marked, we'll be all set.” He printed out the required pages and discarded four of the company printed biros before finding one that actually wrote. He pointed out the required spots as she signed, calling over the intercom to his runner. “Number 106A to the front, please.”

“Are you sure?” the hesitant voice of Terence, assigned to drive the requested car out of the rear lot came over the walkie.

“Absolutely, Terence. Ms. Parker is here waiting.”

“Understood,” Terence's voice suddenly sounding absolutely gleeful. Within minutes he was in front of the building. Ms. Parker made an exasperated noise as she settled in the driver's seat. 

“It's cold out and you idiots leave the a/c on? It's going to take forever to warm up.” She drove off, poking at the heater buttons. 

Terence looked at Bond with total admiration. “It's gonna take about fifteen minutes before the heat comes on completely. It'll probably take another thirty before the smell hits her. You're a bloody crafty bastard.”

“I read the last notes attached to her file. She left her last rental with used condoms, a silicone dildo and a bag full of weed. And your staff have been keeping 106A at the back of the lot for just this kind of customer. From what I gather, the customer transported a dead sheep in the rear, got the interior coated with sheep blood and shit, and refused to acknowledge it even though he had photos of the sheep on his damned Instagram. Your franchise owner declined to pay to have the car properly cleaned and the result is, that every time the heat warms up enough, the entire car smells like a rotting sheep. I think Ms. Parker deserves that car.”

Terence nodded with grave respect. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, mate. That's evil genius level stuff.” He headed back to his kiosk on the lot. Bond was left listening to Q, snorting in his ear, obviously entertained. 

“Glad someone is amused, Quartermaster. I don't see how anyone does this job as a regular thing. Do you know someone returned a car this afternoon with part of a fence post wedged in the grill and swore he had no idea how it had gotten there? That was just before the family in the Galaxy returned their vehicle with grape jelly smeared all over the rear windows and three overfull nappies in the back seat caddies. And both the renters tried to argue that they didn't want to pay the damages.”

“Good news, 007. Our target's flight just landed so he should be there in the next few.” Q sounded his usual confident self and Bond was pleased his portion of this mission would be over soon.

He maintained that cheerful thought for just as long as it took for the shuttle to arrive from the terminal. Abruptly there was a line of twelve customers queued up at the counter, their target being at the end. At the second customer, the printer paper ran out. He spent a few minutes hunting under the counter for the refills. Then the third customer couldn't produce a drivers license. When he finally did pull one out, it was obviously a fake. Bond pushed through the papers anyway, determined to get through the line and complete this idiotic mission. By then, the fourth and fifth had left, apparently deciding a cab would do. The sixth had their credit card declined and Bond saw huge red messages appear on his computer that the card was stolen. He gritted his teeth and dialed the police. By the time they arrived to arrest the fraud, two more customers had turned pale and left the building. His target eventually arrived at the head of the line. 

“Busy night,” the man commented pleasantly as he presented his reservation number. 

“A bit,” Bond agreed. He began to print out the rental agreement. “Will you be the only driver, sir?” Getting a nod, he continued. “We recommend the additional insurance but you may choose to waive it here,” he pointed at the initial box. 

The man checked his watch. “Can we hurry this up a bit. I have an appointment.” 

“Sorry, sir. Won't be a minute. The paperwork needs to be correct.” Bond could hear Q in his ear telling him to hurry up and get the man on the road. Bond fully intended to do so but he had spent the past six hours in car rental hell and intended have some petty revenge. “And this is where you initial to agree to the fuel surcharge if the tank is returned not full. And the cleaning charge for more than standard wear.”

Finally he ushered the man out the door where Terence had pulled up the MI6 modified vehicle. They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the vehicle navigate out of the lot. The next shift was due in a few minutes and Bond would be free to leave. He returned to his place behind the counter, reaching under for the bag he had placed there. Sex toys, used nappies and other detritus were all routinely found in returned rental cars. He chuckled a bit as he checked the contents one more time and folded the top over. “What's so funny, 007?” Q asked over the ear piece. “I thought you couldn't wait to be out of there.”

Bond thought of the uses he could make of the unopened, factory fresh vibrating plug (batteries included) he had retrieved from the glove box of a luxury rental while helping Terence this afternoon. Someone's date had not gone to plan. “Q. Unless you need me to debrief formally, I'll be heading straight home after this.”

“Acknowledged, 007. Good work.” Bond's phone immediately buzzed with a text. 

'What are you up to , James?' - Q

'Nothing at all, darling. Just bring takeaway. I fancy an evening in.' - jb

Bag in hand, he tossed his rental agent vest to the oncoming employee and waved at Terence as he departed. Q might not be amused exactly but they would both be entertained.


End file.
